


kiss me goodnight (like a good friend might)

by stonesnuggler



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Fantasizing, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, blink and you miss it Matt Benning/Drake Caggiula, brief mention of past Connor McDavid/Dylan Strome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 00:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonesnuggler/pseuds/stonesnuggler
Summary: She can't stop the image of Leon at the bar from flooding into her head, everything from that dumb snapback he always wears to the tight white v-neck and dark wash jeans that definitely accentuate his well-defined muscles.Connor has a strict "no teammates" rule, and she likes to believe after the slip up of getting caught moaning Dylan's name in the shower in juniors that she's been okay with following that.Leon, though. He might be the one to make her reconsider said rule.[Or: Connor has a big fat crush on Leon and instead of telling him, she gets off to the thought of him.]





	kiss me goodnight (like a good friend might)

**Author's Note:**

> i was a bit skeptical about tagging this connor/leon because it's not exactly connor/leon, just connor getting off to the thought of being with leon, but oh well!! 
> 
> huge shoutout to my lauras for being dirty rotten enablers and letting me chatfic this whole thing in our groupchat, and an extra shoutout to [laura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyjournal/pseuds/eberbae) for the beta and for making this fic into a little less of a hot mess!!

Connor is still running on the adrenaline of the game when she walks into the club with Ryan and Jordan, toward the booth in the back that's occupied by the majority of the team.

It's thrumming through her veins, making her a little dizzy, a little more hyped up. She can't decide if she wants a nap, alcohol, or to run a marathon. The team solves that dilemma for her, though, because Nursey is at the end of one of the booths, tray of shots waiting for the stragglers that didn't come with the first wave of the team.    
  
"There's our girl!" he shouts over the music, and the team joins in, jostling Connor around in congratulations.

Someone pushes a shot into Connor’s hand -- she's pretty sure Patty’s the culprit-- and she accepts it. It's caramel colored, hopefully whiskey. She loves whiskey. She  _ deserves _ whiskey.

It's not whiskey.

She grimaces as the taste hits her tongue, tries to place what it is and --   
  
"Southern Comfort?" her high school memories provide her. Some of the guys laugh.    
  
"Starting you off easy, cap," Kass says, throwing back a shot of his own.

It's only then that she takes a glance around the two booths the team is occupying, taking in the atmosphere. Ryan and Jordan have a beer each, and they’re pressed close together on the end of the second booth. 

Matty and Drake trying  _ really _ hard to make it look like they don't want to climb one another like a tree; Looch, Kass, and Patty are pressed in the middle of the round booth, looking over the team like the dads that they are; and then there's Nursey and Leon.

They’re pressed together, drinks forgotten on the table in front of them. Their faces are flushed, heads bent together and pressed to each other’s sides , leading Connor to believe they got started pretty early. Leon's talking about something emphatically, and although  Connor can't quite hear what he’s saying, she does catch the crinkle in the corner of his eyes that happens when he smiles, genuine and relaxed.

Her heart beats a little bit faster, but she pushes that thought down with another shot, cursing whoever the fuck thought SoCo was a good idea.

Sometime after a few more shots and some good-natured chirping, Connor convinces Ryan to come out and dance with her. They move against each other without a care in the world, some fruity excuse for a mixed drink in their hands. She's shelved her 'C' for the night, obviously; the team can take care of themselves. She deserves to take a night to have fun.

Something’s coursing through her that she can't quite place, though. She knows how residual adrenaline feels, relishes in the high of it; she knows the slight dizziness in her head is the alcohol; still, she can't explain the swooping heat in her stomach.

It’s not until she catches the eye of someone near her on the dance floor. He's got a look in his eye, but not one that says "I know that you're Connor McDavid.” No, it's one that's half-lidded, interested, a little hungry.    
  
The swooping feeling comes back and she instantly knows what it is: arousal.

Feeling a little confident, she downs the rest of her drink, tells Ryan with a wink that she's off to the table for a bit. She catches both Leon and Nursey's eye-- because they were both definitely looking at her, which she'll have to revisit when she's sober. She pushes Nursey in a little, sits next to him at the very end of the booth.

"Havin' fun there, Cap?" Nursey says, nudging her a little and she can feel her face heat up. She doesn't answer, just smirks a little as she steals Darnell's beer out of his hand and takes a long swig from it. When she sets the bottle down, she sees the guy from the dance floor at the bar and her stomach swoops again.

He towers above the crowd, and his black t-shirt stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His hair is perfectly parted on one side and styled with gel that still makes it look soft. Connor wants to run her fingers through it, feel the burn of his beard against her thighs. She just…  _ wants _ . He looks over his shoulder, like he can feel her looking and starts making his way to them.

"You're gorgeous," he says after he reaches the table. Connor sees Leon roll his eyes with a smirk, hears Nursey huff a laugh as he takes a swallow of his drink.    
  
"You're forward," she replies, calm and cool and collected, everything that she isn't internally.

He looks a little bristled at Leon and Darnell but introduces himself anyway, extends a hand to her and says, "Jason."   
  
"Callie," she lies, because he doesn't look like a fan, but better to be safe than sorry.

They shake hands, and he holds on a beat too long. "Can I buy you a drink?"   
  
She finds her eyes flicking to Leon, but she doesn't know why. She pushes the thought away, nods and says, "whiskey ginger. Woodford if they have it."   
  
Jason looks impressed as he says, "Good taste,” then heads to the bar.

"He's friendly," Leon says after Jason has left, taking a long swig of his beer.

Connor absolutely does not watch the muscles in his throat working as he swallows. Nope. Not at all.

She shrugs with a smirk, hoping to keep the confident persona rolling for at least a little while.    
  
Nursey laughs into his own beer. "Can you blame him? Davey here is a fuckin' smoke show."

Leon’s face turns about as red as his snapback, but before Connor can process that, Jason returns. He asks her to dance and suddenly Nursey’s pushing her out of the booth, Jason has his hand on her lower back, and she feels hot all over. 

The dancing is nice. Connor is riding the wave of adrenaline, alcohol, and arousal, letting it crash over her, almost more intoxicating than the drink in her hand.What's nicer than the dancing, though, is when Jason begins pressing solid, open mouthed kisses to the hinge of her jaw, just the barest hint of teeth before moving up to her lips. He hesitates just long enough to give her time to pull away; she doesn't, actually does the opposite and presses their lips together. He tastes like cheap vodka, but she's not too inclined to care right now.

He starts giving her the same treatment on the other side of her throat, little nips as he works a mark. She gasps at the scrape of his teeth, the pressure of his tongue, breathes out --   
  
"Shit,  _ Leon _ ."

Jason stops, moves his hands off of her waist. He looks confused, a little hurt maybe, and Connor knows the guilt is written all over her face.   
  
"Uh... right," he says, dull and disinterested. "Nice meeting you, Callie."    
  
And then he's gone.

She's still stuck on the use of the name that's not hers before she processes what she said. Her head snaps up, looks toward the team, and Leon's looking right at her, eyes lingering like he had been watching for a while. His eyes are a little wide, but he looks away as soon as she sees him. She's a little paranoid he heard her, but takes some reassurance by the fact that she can barely hear herself think from the thrum of the club around her. 

She doesn’t run out of the club as much as speed-walks. She catches an uber back to the hotel, which she realizes is a terrible idea because it leaves her alone with her thoughts and, well. She kind of fucked up, and she probably wouldn't have been alone in this Uber if it wasn't because of Leon. Things were working with that guy, she was definitely feeling it with him, but she had to go and run her mouth.

But what about him, she finds herself thinking. Why in that situation, where she was definitely into was Jeremy -- Josh? Jason? she doesn't know -- was doing, why Leon.

She couldn't remember the guy’s face, only the well-fitting clothes and the perfectly styled hair. Every time she tried to remember his face it was --    
  
"Shit.  _ Leon, _ " she mutters to herself.

The Uber drops her at the hotel and she can't get upstairs fast enough. She wants to go to bed, forget this happened, process her feelings later, but she's still wired. Still a little tipsy. Still really  _ really _ turned on.

She tries to tamp it down by splashing some cold water on her face, but that hurts more than helps because as soon as she looks up into the mirror, she can see how blown her pupils are.  Her arousal gets jacked right back up when she notices the faint marks on her neck, but so does a little bit of shame

She struggles out of the really tight pants Matty had goaded her into wearing, then goes immediately for her bra. She struggles getting the straps down and out but succeeds, tossing the fabric across the room.

As soon as she's laying down, she can't stop from teasing herself through her panties, feather-light touches to the damp fabric covering her core. Her free hand snakes up under her shirt, the pad of her thumb brushing over her nipple and a moan escapes from her throat.

She can't stop the image of Leon at the bar from flooding into her head, everything from that dumb snapback he always wears to the tight white v-neck and dark wash jeans that definitely accentuate his well-defined muscles. 

Connor has a strict "no teammates" rule, and she likes to believe after the slip up of getting caught moaning Dylan's name in the shower in juniors that she's been okay with following that.    
  
Leon, though. He might be the one to make her reconsider said rule. 

She decides to add to the bad decisions she’s made tonight and lets herself think about Leon shirtless and flushed down to his chest, abs gleaming with a bit of sweat. Maybe he’d duck down to press kisses to cover up where Jason was earlier, down to her collarbones, her chest. Maybe, then, he’d leave marks in the lines of her rib cage, a distinct "I was here” for Connor to admire days later.

She puts a bit of pressure on her clit through her panties at that thought, quick but firm little circles. The drag of the fabric puts the sensation just on this side of too much, and her head is reeling with it. She takes a few heaving breaths, lets her eyes flutter shut again, and when she does she can almost see Leon tucked between her legs, pressing kisses into her thighs.

She mimics the feeling with the hand that was on her breast, tracing her fingers up her inner thighs almost up to meet where her other hand is still circling, but then back down and away from where she wants it most. She knows Leon would tease her, knows he'd draw it out.

Connor's biting the inside of her lip so hard she can taste the slightest hint of blood, but she releases it when she moves her panties to the side, running her fingers through the slickness as her mouth falls open in a silent moan. Practiced fingers find her clit easily and it's almost like a shock, the little jolt of pleasure she gets right in her core, through her stomach, the familiar ache in her lower back of wanting  _ more more more. _

This time when she closes her eyes, it’s almost too real to think about  what it would be like if Leon was doing this instead of her. He'd be firm and steady handed, deft fingers working at taking her apart in every way possible. She’d grip his hair as he places little kitten licks to her clit and pushes his fingers inside of her, bringing her closer and closer. 

"Fuck," she gasps out, barely audible, circles her clit quickly a couple more times before pushing two fingers inside. The stretch is exactly what she needs and she starts to move her fingers slowly, lets her thumb circle her clit as best as she can. It's a little uncoordinated, but the slick slide of her fingers and the press of her thumb has her dangerously close. 

She can see Leon in her head; he’s holding her hips as he licks into her, the tip of his tongue tracing against her clit. She wants to come so bad, lets herself think of Leon looking up at her through his eyelashes, and that's it. She's not sure if she's silent or if she screams, but she doesn't really care, relishing in the feel of the aftershocks washing over her as she carefully pulls her fingers out, lets her hand rest sticky against her hip as she breathes heavily.  
  
She's starting to drift off when her phone buzzes. She wills herself up, reaches for the pockets of her jeans until she finds it, and sees that she has a message from Leon.    
  
" _Sit next to me on the plane tomorrow?_ " It says.    
  
She swallows hard, then sends back a thumbs-up emoji before putting the phone face down with a groan.    
  
"I'm so fucked," she says to nobody, but that doesn't mean it's any less true.


End file.
